Sweet Hatred-Chapter 248: Stupid Comfort

Outside, Sylas leaned casually against his shiny black motorcycle that looked like it belonged in a movie about dangerous men and midnight getaways.

He had that smug look on his face. The one that always said, I already know what you’re about to say, and I’ve decided not to listen.

"You really don’t have to come," I said again, even though a part of me wanted him to insist.

Sylas arched a brow, pushed off the bike, and held out a helmet like it was a peace offering.

"I’m coming because I want to. Don’t make this weird."

"I’m not riding that thing."

"You already have."

I glared at him. "That was different."

His grin widened. "That was the beach. This is family drama. Same level of emotional chaos, just different scenery."

I opened my mouth to argue, really, but then sighed and snatched the helmet from his hand.

I didn’t put it on though.

I just stood there. Staring at it.

Something about the curve of it in my palms made me pause.

I remembered the first time I rode behind him. That night away from the beach, the wind tangling in my hair, my arms tight around his waist, that fleeting moment of weightlessness that made me forget everything, Olivia, my mom, even Kael.

And now...

I glanced upwards at Sylas, who was watching me without a word. Not pushing. Just waiting.

His presence was grounding.

Stupidly comforting.

The kind of comfort I didn’t want to admit I needed.

And maybe...

Maybe it made me feel a little less like smashing my father’s face into whatever table we’d be sitting at.

Still dazed in my own spiraling thoughts, I didn’t even notice Sylas step closer until his fingers brushed mine.

He took the helmet gently.

Lifted it.

Slid it down over my head himself.

Careful.

Deliberate.

His fingers lingered near my jaw as he adjusted the strap. Then his eyes locked with mine through the darkened visor.

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

He just stared.

I blinked. "What?"

His mouth curved.

"Is something on my face?" I asked.

His smirk deepened. "Nothing I’d change."

Then he turned and swung onto the bike like he hadn’t just knocked the air out of my chest with one look.

I stared at him.

At this strange, reckless boy with too much charm and not enough fear.

And then, quietly...

I got on behind him.

The engine roared under us, low and steady like a promise. Or maybe a threat.

I wasn’t sure which.

I wrapped my arms around Sylas’s torso, not tight at first, just barely holding on.

But as the bike pulled into motion, picking up speed, I found myself clinging more.

Not because I was afraid of falling off.

But because I was afraid of falling apart.

The city blurred by in streaks of grey and glass, the wind slicing through my thoughts. It should’ve felt like freedom. Like the same rush I remembered from that night at the beach.

But nothing about this ride felt free.

Not today.

Not with that café getting closer every second.

Not with him waiting.

My father.

The man who shattered everything soft in me.

The man I hated. I used to fear him. Used to want to forget so badly, I’d choke on my own name just to erase the part of it that came from him.

I rested my cheek against Sylas’s back, letting the vibration of the engine drown out the noise in my skull.

He smelled like cedar and something warmer, more reckless, like a wildfire you didn’t know whether to run from or into.

Just like Kael was.

And gods, I hated how needy it made me feel.

How easily he filled the silence Kael always left in his wake.

I hated that this was helping.

That his presence was keeping me tethered when I wanted to break.

You didn’t really think I’d go alone, did you? I thought bitterly.

Because somewhere in the haze of it all, I knew,

If I walked into that café alone, I might’ve burned it to the ground.

But with Sylas...

Maybe I’d just set the table on fire instead.

The café wasn’t loud.

But my heart was.

It pounded against my ribs the second we pulled into the street, the second I saw it, small, warm-looking, and completely wrong for the kind of meeting I was about to walk into.

Sylas parked the bike along the curb with practiced ease, shutting off the engine in one smooth flick.

The sudden quiet left a ringing in my ears.

I didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

My fingers were still locked in the fabric of his jacket, like letting go meant collapsing.

He reached back without turning. His hand found my knee, light and steady. "We’re here."

I swallowed.

Right.

Here.

I let go slowly, climbing off the bike with my legs shaking harder than I wanted to admit.

I stood there, helmet still on, eyes fixed on the café door like it might suddenly vanish if I stared long enough.

Behind me, I felt Sylas watching.

And then, gently, he pulled the helmet off.

I didn’t meet his eyes.

I couldn’t.

"Aria," he said softly, stepping in front of me.

I blinked.

Finally looked up.

His brows pulled slightly together, but there was no teasing in his face this time.

No flirt.

No charm.

Just concern, rough and honest and unpolished.

"You don’t have to go in if you’re not ready."

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. "He’s already inside. I saw him through the glass."

Sylas nodded slowly. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

I hesitated.

"No," I whispered. "But...I guess you should stay close."

His lips quirked, not a smile, not really, just the faintest twitch of something softer.

"I’ll be right here. I won’t go far."

I exhaled.

"Okay," I said, stepping back. "Okay."

I turned toward the door.

Every step felt like walking into a graveyard.

Except this one?

The corpse was still breathing

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